The Falconer's Bride
by ThreeOranges
Summary: What happened to Marguerite and Rodmilla after "Ever After"? Prologue so far, tbc.


The Falconer's Bride  
  
Chapter One  
  
La Taverne Du Faucon D'Argent  
  
Périgueux, France  
  
1817  
  
They'd chosen well. Wilhelm could see that as soon as they entered the inn. The fire in the main bar was so well-stocked they felt the roasting warmth of it on their hands and faces. Moments after their entrance, their pretty blonde hostess hurried up to assure them of rooms for the night and an older man - her father? - escorted them through to an area where they might eat in relative peace. It was tucked away at the back of the inn, whitewashed walls and dark wooden tables lit only by candlelight, and those who ate and drank within looked really quite civilized. For Frenchmen, at any rate. The dinners were a trifle long in coming - and it was too bad that their drivers were served five minutes before they themselves were! Wilhelm thought with a touch of irritation - but when they arrived he was ready to pardon the cook everything for the sheer succulence of the fish flesh. Yes, the inn was possibly the best they'd been to during their whole stay in France. And yet there was something about the place that gave Wilhelm a sense of ... fear? No, not fear. Apprehension. And he had to admit that the thing which rustled his senses was the decoration on the far wall.  
  
The stuffed body of a large silver-blue falcon had been given pride of place in the restaurant room - it stood three feet from the ceiling, casting a long shadow which twitched as the fire crackled. It had been expertly mounted: its talons rested on a picturesque piece of driftwood, its wings were spread wide and the chest raised as if the creature were about to take off for its nest. Even the bird's expression had some character in it: the eyes were hypnotically wide and the mouth curved in rage, in the primal fury of a bird of prey. It was a splendid example of the taxidermist's art, yet he could not bring himself to admire it. Something in those spread wings and fixed glass eyes emphasized not the living bird it had been, but the dead thing it now was. It was magnificent and terrible in equal measure, and Wilhelm thought it best to remove his eyes from it and concentrate upon his food.  
  
"This river trout is simply delicious," he remarked to his brother in their native German. A few Frenchmen looked up at the sound of the foreign tongue, but then turned back to their drinks. "Melts in the mouth! And the vegetables are worth every penny. How's your venison?"  
  
"I can't complain," his brother replied as he speared a piece with his fork and let the threads of meat soak up the thick gravy. "Reminds me of what we've been missing at the university. Great learning, abysmal food! No, it is settled. As soon as we get back to Kassel, I shall go in search of a woman who can cook, and when I do, I will lose no time in making her my wife."  
  
The younger man chuckled, stroking his auburn beard. "And how do you propose to find her, pray tell?"  
  
"Simple!" The fork circled like a wand in the air. "I shall set a test whereby every maiden in the province must create the perfect dinner for two! As in every fairy tale, the test shall consist of three parts. Starter, main course and dessert. It will be childishly simple."  
  
"Better to find a woman who could put up with you, Jakob!" Wilhelm replied, laughing. "The maiden would rather be chained to the dragon - yes, and Rapunzel go back to the tower!"  
  
"And the Little Ash Girl return to her dismal hearth?" Jakob replied without smiling.  
  
Wilhelm lost his smile as well. "Let's not go over that again."  
  
"No, let's," the older man said obstinately. "I think it's about time we discussed it properly, don't you? I have no fondness for uncomfortable silences."  
  
Strange; you're usually the cause of them, my dear Jakob... "Look, I told you I have no real opinion on what the Grande Dame told us! I thought it was a pretty tale, and I think others might like to hear it, but whether the Ash Girl was really a girl called Danielle de Barbarac... As I said to her, we will never really know."  
  
"Did you believe her?" Jakob insisted, his dark eyes serious. "All I want is a straight answer from you, Willi, and I will say no more. Do you believe that this commoner Danielle de Barbarac was the original Cinderella, or - is it just possible - did we travel three weeks on uneven roads from Hessen at our own expense for no reason whatsoever?"  
  
Wilhelm allowed a pause for Jakob's anger to cool before he ventured to reply. "Well, I don't believe it was a wasted journey - or that the lady was senile, as you seem so keen to suggest. Perhaps... I thought it might be the start of a new trend in folklore? "Fairy tales without the fairies", if you will."  
  
"People will never want such stories!" The thump from Jakob's fist made the table shudder. "The girl she described was entirely without femininity. Swimming, climbing in her drawers, fighting with swords and scarring a man on the cheek? If we were to publish the story, it would have to be a cautionary tale regarding those females who seem to think they are men!"  
  
"Oh come now, Jakob, I didn't think she was as bad as all that -"  
  
"Madame! Two more beers, if you will!" Jakob called loudly across the room, and the hostess bobbed a curtsy and disappeared. That done, he turned back to his brother with a smirk. "I said we should not have made the journey here, do you recall? I remember saying that we should have asked her to write it down and send it by messenger. It was you who decided that a visit to the Chateau de Hautefort was worth taking two months' unpaid leave from the university and the expense of hiring a carriage! It was you who made the decision to go -"  
  
"And I seem to recall that all your objections melted away at the notion of taking tea with the last direct descendant of the Royal House of Valois!" Wilhelm snapped in reply. "Don't put all the blame on me, Jakob. We've had a pleasant tour of this region of France, we've met a royal princess and we have a story which I'm sure we can put to good use. That's well worth the cost of this trip, in my opinion."  
  
"Worth the cost?" Jakob's voice cracked from the weight of incredulity he brought to bear upon it. "The story of Danielle de Barbarac is not proper history and it has no magic within its narrative. And even as a story it has lapses in its narrative that would challenge even the most credulous listener!"  
  
"And what moments would those be?"  
  
"You mean you didn't notice?" Jakob's trap for his brother had sprung shut. As Wilhelm groaned silently, Jakob openly laughed in triumph. "Now really, Willi, I can't believe you didn't notice!"  
  
"No, I'm afraid I did not notice. Unlike you, dearest brother, I gain no pleasure from finding fault in everything I encounter," Wilhelm replied, his last words a futile attempt to wipe the smug grin from the other's face. "Go on, then, tell me what faults you found in the tale."  
  
"Well, one that springs to mind is the meeting between the lovers at the ruins at Amboise. Remember the old woman said that the Prince held Danielle de Barbarac's hand? This is the hand of a girl who's had to slave for ten years at all manner of domestic chores. Sores, dry skin, calluses - it should be as hard as that of any washerwoman! And yet he takes this work- roughened hand in his - and he does not notice?"  
  
"Perhaps she was wearing gloves?" Wilhelm suggested half-heartedly. "Or perhaps the Prince wore them. Or perhaps he was simply too enamoured of the face he beheld to pay much attention to the feel of her hand -"  
  
"Balderdash! You are a sentimental dreamer, Willi!" Jakob lifted a final forkful of venison and chewed it with deliberate satisfaction before letting knife and fork fall back onto the dish. "And in any case there is one enormous loose end, and that is the end of the evil stepmother and stepsister. Are we really to believe that they spent the rest of their lives in servitude in the castle?"  
  
"And is that really what they told you, gentlemen?"  
  
The voice was female and spoke in flawless German. So astonished were the brothers to hear another eavesdropping on the conversation they had considered private that both started slightly at the sound of the voice. They looked up to see the fresh-faced blonde innkeeper holding two tankards of beer: in the silence she set one before Wilhelm, and the other in front of Jakob. It was Jakob who found his voice first.  
  
"I - beg your pardon, mademoiselle?"  
  
"No, gentlemen, it is I who beg pardon of you," the woman replied politely. "I could not help but overhear your - conversation. I heard you mention the name Danielle de Barbarac, and when the Brothers Grimm discuss such a figure I cannot help but pay attention."  
  
"Really." For one awful moment Wilhelm was afraid his brother was going to make some snide comment about women needing to know their place, but his fears were groundless. "And why would Danielle de Barbarac interest you?"  
  
Another bobbed curtsy: Wilhelm realized it was this woman's nervous tic. "We have carried a part of the tale within our family for many generations, and I do not think my father would object if I were to tell you all I know of the story. For the Brothers Grimm, it would be an honour."  
  
"Well," Wilhelm began, "that would be won-"  
  
"That would not be necessary, thank you," Jakob replied coldly, cutting across his brother's words. "My brother and I have had a long and tiring journey on the road, and we must be up in good time tomorrow to continue on the road for home. Besides," he added dismissively, "I've had quite enough of Princess Danielle and her ilk."  
  
"Ah, I do not have much to tell you of Danielle once she married Prince Henry," the girl said, nodding as if in sympathy. "A little, but not very much: she lived happily ever after, I'm afraid. But you said you wanted to know what happened to her stepmother and stepsister, and I could tell you, if you wish. In particular the story of the stepsister, Marguerite."  
  
"Marguerite?" This time it was Wilhelm who interrupted, speaking as if a bad taste had just filled his mouth. "We heard all about her from the Princesse, and, please believe me, that is all we ever want to hear of her. A lifetime of servitude for that lying little toad - why, I thought she deserved far worse for all she did!"  
  
"Wilhelm was nearly in tears when she threw Danielle's copy of "Utopia" on the fire," Jakob clarified for the hostess's benefit. "He's always been a bit of a bookworm. If he'd been there to witness it, I believe he would probably have picked her up and thrown her on the fire in return."  
  
"I can't deny she did much that was wrong," the girl replied calmly. "But you must remember that she was only nineteen when she did that. Which of us would wish to be judged forever by the things we did at the age of nineteen?" Finding no reply from the brothers, she continued: "She was spoiled, yes, and selfish. She was vain and scheming. But do you believe such people can never change?"  
  
"No, I don't. People don't change," Jakob said wearily. "And I beg your pardon, Madame, but I am very tired and I need to get some sleep before I fall down in your hallway." He rose to his feet and threw down enough money to pay for the two meals. It clattered sharply on the wooden surface. "Willi, are you coming up?"  
  
Wilhelm looked first at his bleary-eyed brother, then at his hostess. "If I stay here, will you tell me what happened to Marguerite?" The girl nodded. "Then I'm staying here. You go up and get some sleep, Jakob, I'll see you in the morning."  
  
Jakob opened his mouth to say something, then though better of it. "All right. But if you think you can sleep in the carriage tomorrow, you'll have another think coming..." As he stumbled out of the room the girl bore the plates and cutlery away so that when she returned all that remained on the table were the two untouched tankards of beer.  
  
"You can have that if you want," Wilhelm said with a shy smile, pushing the tankard towards the girl as she eased herself into the spot vacated by his brother. "And before we start, you must tell me your name."  
  
"Henriette. Herr Grimm, before I start, I must show you something." From the pocket of her apron she drew out a medal on a chain and held it up to the light. Made of slightly tarnished silver, it portrayed a bird with its wings stretched out as if for flight. It resembled almost exactly the falcon mounted on the wall.  
  
Wilhelm could not take in the incredible detail on that medal at first glance, but he was aware of an electrifying sensation throughout his body. He knew that sensation. He'd felt it two days ago. As soon as the Grande Dame had lifted the pretty crystal slipper from the jewelled box, he'd known that something was about to happen. And now it was happening once more. Dimly he heard the girl saying those fateful words.  
  
"Once upon a time..." 


End file.
